League of Legends: Extended Lore
by aClay1788
Summary: Champion background lore that has been expanded further than what is in the game. Each chapter will be of a different Champion.
1. Garen the Might of Demacia

Author's Note: I take no credit for any characters, places or events taking place in this written work. This is a fan-made extension of the League of Legends champion's lore. Please enjoy.

League of Legends: Extended Lore

Garen the Might of Demacia

Thousands of marching footsteps are heard traversing the lands of Valoran heading towards the benevolent city-state of Noxus. The almost in-sync rhythm of the march was nearly as noticeable as their uniform. The blue chainmail they wore was covered by shinning silver armour outlined in gold, each soldier carrying a shield of similar colour accompanied by either a longsword or a spear for the soldiers closer to the frontlines. One of the men in the frontlines was carrying a banner with the image of two proud golden lions in front of a blue shield, each holding a sword that would cross in the centre, the Demacian crest. The Demacian soldiers were led by a large, proud man wearing a similar uniform. He didn't carry a shield like the other soldiers, as his large frame allowed him to carry a weapon far better suited to his powerful fighting style. His name was Garen, and they called him the Might of Demacia, for he was the pride of the Demacian army. He held his hand in the air for a moment as he began to slow, the soldiers that followed him immediately followed suit.

In the distance they noticed another army of similar size wearing darker armour than theirs, as if they represented the battle between the light and the darkness. The specifics of the armour could not be seen, but a quick glimpse at their banner revealed their identity. The silver outlined blue shield that sat in front of two large silver weapons, an axe and hammer crossing to make an 'X' with what looked like a silver stick with both sides sharpened sitting horizontally behind the shield. The Noxian army stood proudly behind their emblem, just as the Demacian's stood behind theirs. Before engaging the Noxian soldiers, the leader of the Demacian army thrust his large sword into the air, shouting a mighty "For Demacia!" before leading the charge against their enemy.

The open field had become cluttered with the abundance of soldiers engaging in mortal combat. The constant clashing of steel was like an endless loop of ringing, and the once green grass that covered the field was starting to change to a deep red, moistened by the blood of Demacian and Noxian soldiers. Neither side seemed to have the upper hand.

That is, if you didn't notice the Might of Demaica slicing through multiple Noxian soldiers with a single swing of his mighty sword.

Noxian soldiers didn't even know what hit them until it was too late. By the time they had felt his blade against them, he was already halfway through the torso and ready to continue onto the next soldier. The whirlwind that Garen became was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. The enemy troops fell one by one in a bloody heap of bodies sliced cleanly into two halves.

Fear began to sweep over the Noxian army.

After putting another group of soldiers to rest with his blade, Garen noticed many of his own soldiers falling one after the other in quick succession. He quickly charged to the location of the carnage, slicing through the few Noxain men that stood between him and his men.

"Fear not, I'm coming!" He shouted, trying to inspire his men to hold onto life until he arrived.

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of his men lying lifeless on the blood soaked grass, looking up at the man who had put so many of his comrades to rest. But it wasn't a man at all. The form that stood before him was that of a more feminine figure. Her emerald green eyes shone with the fire of a warrior, and the vertical scar on her left eye was a memento of battle, or so he guessed. She was an attractive woman, Garen thought, with long lavender hair that hung down to the middle of her back. She wore tight, dark leather that accentuated her womanly form. Her top was short enough to barely cover her cleavage, with a small leather jacket that hung no further than her shoulder blades, and tight pants that we a house to a multitude of small blades. She looked at Garen for a moment, and he did the same.

"Come forth, you will find honor in death." Garen taunted as he tightened his grip around the large blade he wielded.

"If you insist." She replied, widening her stance and holding her two swords firmly. Without any further delay the dual wielding warrior lunged at Garen, attacking him with a swift flurry of sword strikes that were blocked by the Might of Demacia. He swung his large sword in an attempted counter attack, but the bladed woman disappeared, appearing almost instantly behind him. He barely managed to bring his sword around in time to block the incoming blow.

"Intriguing." The woman said with a smile before disengaging, gracefully somersaulting backwards and landing in a low stance. A similar smile could was on Garen's face, which only intrigued the woman further.

The battle of blades that the two warriors were engaged in drew the attention of many soldiers, Demacian and Noxian alike. Some of the soldiers were able to gain a combat advantage due to the distraction; others became entranced by the epic battle. Fear overcame some of the Noxian soldiers, who began to run from the battlefield. The Demacian soldiers however could not abandon their commander, and began to clean up the few remaining Noxian soldiers before circling around the two warriors.

Surrounded and outnumbered, the bladed woman stopped her assault on Garen, who had also realised his troops gathering around them both. The Noxian woman smiled, the gut feeling of a deadly attack made Garen scream for his troops to run.

It was too late.

The Noxian woman had begun to spin around and around, releasing an abundance of small blades into the throats of all the soldiers. Garen quickly jumped back and took down the two closest men, landing on top of them so that he would take the blades instead of them.

When silence overcame the battlefield and Garen slowly peered back to the woman, she was gone, leaving behind a multitude of dead men, all with a blade in their throat. He picked himself up off of the two men he jumped on, checking to see if they were still alive. The one on his left arm was alright, although a little shaken. The one under his right arm was not, a blade lodged in his throat, covered in his own blood.

The only man alive (apart from Garen) slowly collected his wits, clutching his wounded ribcage as he rose from the blood soaked grass. He looked at the Might of Demacia, who had his back towards him as he thought to himself. The surviving soldier looked in awe as Garen's back was riddled with blades, with blood trickling down his back as the blades had partially penetrated his armour. The other thing that surprised the man was Garen's heavy breathing. He had never heard of that man ever returning from a battle with a shortness of breath.

"Who… was that woman?" the soldier asked Garen a little hesitantly, looking around at all of his comrade's motionless bodies.

"I've heard stories of her exploits before." Garen replied, attempting to recall the rumours he had once heard. "The daughter of Noxian General Du Couteau, Katarina…" The thought of this new foe strangely excited him. He turned to face the only survivor, the man he saved, and smiled. "Let's try to find some survivors and return home."

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><p>"… it seemed as though the two were locked in a mortal waltz set against a symphony of clashing blades." A drunk man exclaimed, the drink in his wooden mug was spilling from his unbalanced movements.<p>

The smell of alcohol was thick in the air as the tavern was filled with men who had drunk more than their sober bodies could handle. The wooden floors were stained with spilt brew, and room was filled by a loud commotion that always came from the same drunken man.

"So you're saying… *hic*… that the pride of our army joined the League of Legends…" another drunk man said before he had to pause and regain his balance. "…to join the League just to fight that woman again? You're crazy boy!"

"If you were there you would understand. You didn't witness it… I don't think I've ever seen Garen smile like that…" the first drunk man stated.

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><p>Equiping his usual Demacian armour and grabbing his large sword, Garen left Demacia and headed to the Institute of War. He had heard a rumour that Katarina was joining the League of Legends, and he wanted to lock blades with her once again. He never entertained such a notion in front of his fellow Demacian's, but he knew they wouldn't understand. The thought of a worthy opponent was reason enough to rise each morning. He sat his sword across the back of his shoulders, paused for a moment of reflection before shouting "To the Fields of Justice!"<p> 


	2. Leona the Radiant Dawn

Author's Note: I take no credit for any characters, places or events taking place in this written work. This is a fan-made extension of the League of Legends champion's lore. Please enjoy.

League of Legends: Extended Lore

Leona the Radiant Dawn

"But I believe that the true worth of a soldier lay in the ability to defend and protect…" the Rakkor teenager said in rebuttal, her serious tone helped to convey her reasoning. She was in a debate against an older man and woman couple, her parents. They didn't agree with her reasons for fighting, as the Rakkor are a proud race of warriors that live high in the mountains of Mount Targon. Her parents were very traditional and hoped that their only child would make them proud and become a mighty warrior of their people. But she did not share their zeal for killing, and they knew that.

"Dammit Leona!" her father said as he rose from his seat after slamming his hands down on the table he sat at. He was a warrior himself, which showed in the way he had carried himself. He had a similar copper hair colour to Leona, which looked like the only thing she inherited from him. "You're such a gifted warrior! You can fight as fiercely as any other, even Pantheon, who is a paragon of our people! Don't waste your talents on some hopeless ideals of mercy!" Leona was speechless at her father's harsh words. She knew he wanted her to be the best that she could be but was too blinded by tradition to just simply support his daughter.

"I must go to the Rite of Kor now…" Leona said after a brief silence, picking up her sword and shield before walking out of the house she called home.

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><p>Leona walked alongside her childhood friend Pantheon, who had completed his Rite of Kor just weeks ago. Easily. Pantheon walked with such pride and confidence, holding his newly received relic-weapon that each Rakkor gains after the Rite of Kor. Leona knew exactly what she needed to do in order to pass the trial. It was a fight to the death between two Rakkor teenagers. She found it completely unnecessary to waste each other's lives in a battle for a weapon. Even though Pantheon and Leona had been friends for as long as they can remember, Pantheon was as blinded by tradition as her father. He was merciless in battle and headstrong in his values. He respected her fighting skills but she knew that could only do so much to maintain a friendship.<p>

She remembered watching Pantheon go through the Rite, as she wanted to see her friend show off his great potential against another. That is where she learned that the Rite was a fight to the death. The thought of killing another didn't sicken her at all, as she had been used to the sights and smells of battle. She just didn't see a purpose in it. She hated the thought of throwing away a life to such an out-dated tradition.

They had reached their destination, a small arena, just large enough to house one hundred people, if that. There was only ever one Rite being initiated at a time, and with only teens combatting each other they felt no need to house a large arena. This small area was where young Rakkor would learn the basics of combat from one of the veteran warriors of the tribe. The Rakkor King felt it a suitable place for a Rakkor to take their first steps as an adult, and to be gifted with a mighty relic-weapon. There was usually an audience large enough to almost fill the arena, except with Pantheon, who had the whole tribe gathered to watch his brilliance in battle. Leona was led into the centre, the battlefield where she knew what was expected of her. She looked around for her parents, who managed to get a view from the front.

Opposite her was another Rakkor teen, a boy. The boy was ready to fight. She could see it in his eyes. Not many Rakkor ever showed fear, and those that did never survived long enough to make it to the Rite of Kor. He wore nothing but a loin garment, and carried his sword and shield. His physique was toned through many battles and sparring sessions, but he bore many scars. Leona had never once seen a scar on Pantheon, and the sight of them made her think of how many times this boy had been hit by a sword. Maybe he had learned from getting cut. Maybe not.

The king of the tribe stood up and spoke of the Rite of Kor. He spoke of its tradition and how only one of these two worthy warriors will survive, and that the one that emerges victorious will be gifted with a relic-weapon. Pantheon stood near the king, who couldn't be more proud of him. Never had he seen a warrior like him, and as an equal in battle the king expected a lot from Leona. After silencing the applause of the audience, the king nodded, signalling for Pantheon to say "Let the Rite of Kor begin!" Speaking those words was a privilege in itself, as the king rarely let anyone apart from himself initiate the Rite.

The Rakkor boy lunged at Leona, who kept her sword low and shield high. He let loose a flurry of sword strikes that were easily deflected off of the shield of Leona. After a few attacks, Leona thrust her shield at the boy, catching him in between sword swings and knocking him off balance and onto the snowy ground. She did nothing to take advantage of the situation, shocking not only the audience, but the king with her lack of killer instinct. Pantheon knew how talented Leona was with her shield, and knew she could capitalise on that exact opening. He knew she wasn't going to kill the boy, and clutched his weapon tightly in anger.

"Finish him Leona!" Pantheon yelled out, as if he couldn't stand by and watch his childhood friend waste such a perfect opportunity. She wasn't surprised by his outburst. Lately when they had trained she knew that Pantheon sensed her lack of zeal in going for the killing blow. She knew how much it angered him. But she also knew she had to walk her own path.

"I refuse." Leona said in response. The arena went quiet. Nobody had ever refused to complete the Rite of Kor. Young Rakkor would slay each other for just the chance to fight. "I will not kill this boy."

The king rose from his seat in anger. "Finish the boy or you will abandon the Rite of Kor!"

"I don't care." Leona replied.

"Then you must be executed for opposing our sacred traditions!" the king exclaimed. The audience was still silent, unsure of how to react to such a situation. Without wasting any time, a small group of Rakkor soldiers emerged and held their spears to Leona's throat, awaiting the king's order to execute her. She looked up to see Pantheon, who looked down in disappointment at her. He didn't seemed phased by the fact that she was about to be executed right in front of him. The king nodded to the soldiers, who tightened their grip on their weapons ready to thrust them through Leona and slay her for her insolence.

Suddenly, a bright sunlight burst forth from Leona, bathing all of Mount Targon in light. As it faded, Leona stood unharmed and her would-be executioners lay unconscious around her. The king was awestruck, with a similar expression upon Pantheon's face. The silence within the audience continued.

From behind the king emerged a man dressed in bright, golden armour. His face could not be seen, but the king knew exactly who his was.

"Solari." He said in shock. Pantheon had never heard of the Solari, and the fact that they had shown up after Leona's surprise light-show made him wonder.

"My king, what is a Solari?" he asked courteously to the king.

"They are a special group of Rakkor who answer to a higher calling. They were formed by a warrior who could call down the raw might of the sun down upon his enemies in combat." The king responded, reciting some Rakkor history that was taught to him decades before.

"Though we maintain our reverence, no other possesses the gifts of our founder…" the golden man continued, looking down at Leona, who was looking back at him as she had also noticed the appearance of the Solari. "…until Leona. I demand that her sentence be repealed and that she come with us." The king looked back at the Solari, the shock leaving his face and being replaced with the look of a man who had no control of what lay before him. "The Solari appreciate your compliance." The golden man said with a bow, before heading down to Leona and escorting her out of the arena.

* * *

><p>Leona spent years training with the Solari, who had helped her to focus her new abilities. She now proudly wore the golden armour of the Solari, as they had retired their mantles of war just like she felt she had. They also bestowed upon her the sword and shield passed down from the ancient sun-warrior of legend. She had learned to harness the power she was blessed with, and without hesitation ventured to the Institute of War to join the League of Legends. She told the Solari that she was the new champion of the sun, and her image would wash over all of Runeterra like the bathing light of the sun itself. Although that was true, she wanted to make it up to the Rakkor children that she failed to protect, all the children she knew. She did this for them.<p> 


	3. Nocturne the Eternal Nightmare

**Author's Note: Sorry for the late LoL fanfic. Started this last weekend but got a little stuck so i gave it some time and went back to it. Hope you like it! I'll be trying to be a bit more frequent with these too cause i've been slacking off. Playing too much LoL haha i'm... researching... Anyway please review and let me know what you think!**

* * *

><p>League of Legends: Extended Lore<p>

Nocturne the Eternal Nightmare

"Hey where's Cal? We've finished for the day."

"I think he's in his usual sleeping spot next to the nexus here."

"I don't know how he can sleep there. All that magical energy and stuff… creeps me out more than the trees in this place."

"Stop being such a baby. The Twisted Treeline is just full of residual magic. Besides, the Institute will look after us."

"Haven't you heard all the stories about this place? Isn't this where Maokai first awoke? That giant moving tree Champion?"

"Whatever man. Let's just head to the nexus and wake up Cal."

Underneath what appeared to be a twilight sky the men picked up their equipment and began to proceed the short way to the nexus. The lack of light and strange tree formations that looked like warped faces combined with the glimmer from the night sky did nothing but freak out one of the field architects. His posture was compacted and his hands constantly shaking, more from fright than the chilling breeze that was blowing past them. The other architect was a lot more relaxed, as he'd been working on this specific field for the past few months. Despite that, he would still glace around occasionally at the creepy trees, who looked as if they glanced back. They knew the field had magic within it, especially once they approached the nexus.

The nexus sat upon the fringe of the dark forest, its large silver design seemed to reflect the radiant glow of magic that was emerging from its core. At the bottom of the magical structure was a man asleep. He seemed peaceful, which made the two conscious architects feel easier about approaching him. There were other workers around the nexus, as they all got together in the one location before leaving to head home or possibly the usual ale at the nearest tavern, depending on how hard they had worked or how stressful the day was.

The congregation of workers came to a halt at the sound of a man screaming. The sleeping worker was having a nightmare, and his body convulsed as he cried out at the top of his lungs as if he had just been stabbed in the chest. Then he went silent.

The other workers had no idea how to react. One of the workers slowly and cautiously approached the dreaming man. He wasn't sure why he was trying to be so quiet, but it made him feel safer in this twisted environment. He shook the sleeping man, hoping to wake him. There was no reaction; the man's body remained limp with no signs of breathing.

"I…I think he's dead!" The worker hesitantly yelled out to his peers.

It was as if the words he spoke were magical, as magical energy from the nexus began to crackle around the once sleeping worker. The energy arced around the lifeless body, pulling from his mind a dark creature whose form seemed to be composed of nothing but the shadows themselves. The creature had bright glowing eyes with no mouth. It looked as though it wore some form of armoured shoulder pads, with two giant blades attached to gauntlets he wore on its wrist. It had no legs as it seemed to be floating in the air.

The surrounding workers stopped moving, paralysed with fear.

Suddenly the world went dark. Panic set in as vision was taken away from the men, leaving them blind and afraid. A terrible combination. They then heard a loud hissing voice echo from origins unknown.

"Daaaarknessss!"

When the light returned to the field, it reflected a crimson tide that had washed over the floor. The pool of blood was only the precursor to the view of all the lifeless corpses that the shadowy figure had left in its wake. There was only one man left alive, and he hid behind the silver wall of the nexus, attempting to remain hidden, and alive.

The shadowy figure turned around to look at the last survivor, his cold glowing eyes piercing the man's, and the man could feel nothing but fear wash over him.

_I'm going to die._ That was the only thing going through his mind. _I'm going to die._

Before the deadly creature could make its move, it became trapped in a magical field the shape of a box only just larger than the creature itself. It fought against the magic that confined it but to no avail. A few men wearing runed robes with hoods covering their faces appeared, one of them with a book open as he chanted words unknown to the common tongue.

"Are you alright architect?" One of the men said as they approached the scared survivor. He couldn't answer, even though he wanted to. Words just wouldn't come out. "We need to get this man out of here! He is the only one who can recall the events that transpired here today." He looked back at the creature with a cold glare, matching the monsters intensity with his own. "You will slay no more men today. Let's take it to the institute and let the Council decide what we should do with it."

* * *

><p>"This creature… It's the one responsible for killing our sleeping summoners?" a voice asked, the age and wisdom apparent in the tone he used.<p>

"Yes High Summoner. This is the first time it has appeared on the physical plane. It seemed to live in people's minds, attacking them in their subconscious where none of our magic could help them." A younger voice responded, as the hooded man that was on the scene explained the situation to his superior.

"I also heard you had some trouble in transporting it here."

"Yes High Summoner. It appeared that the creature was bound to the magical energies of the Twisted Treeline nexus. If we went to move him away, the nexus's energy would arc out and hold him, rendering him immovable despite our best efforts. It took many hours, but we managed to bind him to a fragment of that nexus. It is the only thing allowing us to move him without fear of losing him from this realm again." The young summoner explained. The High Summoner paced his office for a moment in contemplation, his hand stroking the silver beard that hung from his chin.

"The families of the victims demand justice. And rightly so. But striking a fatal blow may do nothing but return him to his own world." He paused for a moment to consider his options, the young summoner hanging onto every word. "As punishment for his crimes against the summoners and this very institute, I will allow this creature to be used as a Champion in the League of Legends!"

"But High Summoner! What message do we send if we use this foul creature for our own purposes?"

"I understand your plight young one, but understand what little options we have. The only option we have is keep it under our control and constant supervision to ensure that it doesn't go off on its own and take as many lives as it has already taken." The old summoner stroked his beard once more. "Besides… This creature has a vendetta against the summoners, as we seem to be its main target. Why not make it forcibly serve us? Make it live in its own personal nightmare?"

The young summoner nodded in approval. "Yes High Summoner. I will inform the League at once." He said before leaving the room.

The High Summoner smiled slightly, thinking he had done what he believed was best for all involved. The smile quickly faded when his mind began to ask questions of the shadow's origins. Where was it truly from? A nightmarish world linked to our subconscious minds? Or was it a person's nightmare come to life? If this is true, he wondered, who is the dreamer?


End file.
